Trusting You Again
by elfx9
Summary: One shot. Inspired by the last episode, where Brendan talks about "just when you need him the most, he turns his back on you. And that's why you shouldn't trust anyone." Assume Ash has TOLD Ste about Brendan's feelings, and that brings us here...


Trusting You Again

_It hurts when you think you've found someone you can really trust…who sees you, who really sees you and sees something in you that isn't bad. And just when you need him the most… they turn their back on you. It really hurts. That's why you shouldn't trust anyone, only yourself. And other people make you weak. _

_XOXOXOX_

The door clicks open. Brendan already knows who it is before he turns and sees him; the only person who'd invite himself into the office so shamelessly, without knocking. The only person would hover in the doorway with eyes that pierce into the back of Brendan's head with a fierce hot intensity that scorches him even from a distance.

"What do ye want, Stephen?"

"I wanna talk to ye." Stephen's voice has the familiar tone of willing himself to be strong and confrontational. The type of voice where Brendan knows he's been psyching himself up for hours… getting ready for another round. They're both exhausted from all this. So why is Stephen here – again?

"Ye know I'm really not in any mood to…"

"No." Stephen butts in immediately. "_I'm_ gonna talk. _You're_ gonna listen."

Brendan turns, looking at Stephen with an expression of only mild-interest. Eyebrows raised patronisingly; half-amused and half-put-out by the attitude he is receiving from this cocky little bastard.

"Yes sir." He speaks coolly.

Ste swallows, steadying himself – going over a well-rehearsed speech in his head. He takes a breath and continues; "I… I've never given you any reason not to trust me."

Brendan freezes for a moment – still. Now this is interesting. Maybe he does want to hear what Stephen has to say, even though he knows straight-off that it will all be bullshit. He says nothing. He's _listening, _after all.

Obviously the silence is not something Stephen rehearsed, because he looks slightly wrong-footed and taken aback at having received no reaction. Still, he continues valiantly.

"I… I've _always _stood by you Brendan, through all the shit… I never handed you in, not once, or… or said ought about ye. You – _you're _the one that's always goin' back on the promises, _you're _the one that's always screwin' you up – it's ME who's the one that shouldn't be trustin' YOU! Not the other way round!"

Still Brendan is silent. He moves slowly; his back turning on Stephen, radiating a well-trained impression of nonchalance and boredom at this little speech. But inside his head is reeling. His fists are clenching in his pockets; the anger, the hate, the bitterness, the resentment. Stephen really doesn't understand what he's done, does he? He doesn't understand the pain he's put Brendan through? He thinks that keeping tight-lipped about petty crimes is enough… well that's NOTHING when it comes down to it. Brendan was stupid enough to fall for his caring, loving act before… and look where it landed him. A mess in prison, naively hoping that one day Stephen would show… and he never did.

Well fuck him. That's not someone deserving of trust. No way.

Stephen's voice crackled softly off the walls now… changing tactic… pleading softly with the back of Brendan's head as he continues; "But… I always did trust ye. Didn't I? Even with all them reasons not to, I did. I never treated you bad, Brendan. But you…. YOU…"

Stephen falters, growing frustrated. He doesn't exactly have a way with words, does he? He has no way of articulating the anger, frustration, love, hurt, bitterness, sorrow and confusion that he's feeling. His words float lamely in the air, hovering over Brendan's head; in one ear and out the other, when he wants them to STAB. He wants reaction – he wants Brendan to SAY something… DO something…

Brendan isn't good with words either, but at least he can explain himself physically. Right now, Stephen just struggles pathetically; his fists curling and uncurling against each other in pure childlike aggravation.

The silence fills the room, and Stephen knows he's failed. His well-rehearsed speech didn't sound as good out loud and had no affect whatsoever.

Brendan is sure for a moment that Stephen is going to leave…and when he hears the office door click shut, he's almost certain that's what's happened.

Until he turns… and Stephen is still standing there.

His eyes are soft, kind of red with the efforts to hold back emotion. His hand rests hesitantly on the door-handle… then hovers down to the door-key… and locks it.

What the hell is he doing?

"Stephen, what…"

"It's jus' you and me, see?" Stephen speaks quietly; his words crackling softly off the walls of the office – the office where the two of them share so many warped and surreal memories.

"Cos… cos I trust ye." He continues, "An' even though… cos every time we've been in here before you've either made a move on me… or you've hurt me…"

Brendan flinched slightly. He couldn't help it. A long-suppressed sensation of guilt tugged in his stomach unexpectedly. Years he'd been holding that down – why did it choose to trigger now?

"… despite all that…" Stephen mutters softly, "I still trust you. The doors locked. I trust you."

Brendan grits his teeth. How dare he. How fucking dare he use that when it isn't true. He can't trust Brendan – how can he? – when all Brendan had ever done is abuse and hurt and forget and decline him. Lying again. Always fucking lying – manipulating Brendan into feeling something for those blue eyes and open soul… manipulating and destroying him and making him weak.

Something clicks inside of him. Before he knows it, Brendan has Stephen by the collar of his jumper, slamming his body hard against the brick wall of the office, their faces inches apart, and Brendan's voice leaking venom as he hisses, "Trust me now, do ye?"

Stephen's eyes shimmer slightly with a mixture of fear and shock; he didn't expect this. His hands close themselves around Brendan's impulsively; trying to free himself. But only for a second before he stills. His eyes look wet and pleading… and they meet those of Brendan's… cold and possessed. Corrupted by hurt and disappointment and warped illusions.

"I could do anything to you." Brendan speaks callously into Stephen's ear; words he doesn't really believe but words he says – HAS to say – to get the lad away from him. He doesn't want him anymore… can't bear him to be near… has to make him go. Stephen makes him weak and Stephen could be the ruining of him. Nearly _has _been… before Brendan found the strength to recreate himself.

"But I trust ye though." Stephen croaks delicately. He's dead-set on proving his point… isn't he? What can Brendan do to make him go?

In the end Brendan doesn't have the strength, time or patience to fight his side anymore. He could lay Stephen another punch… that would surely keep him away for good… but he's too exhausted from the pain of it. He could even kiss him and that would shake off this pretence of "trust" in just the same way. But he couldn't do that either. He'd lose himself.

In the end he drops Stephen back to the floor.

His voice sounds dead as he mutters, "It's not mutual."

Stephen outwardly flinches; struck by pain. He has no more words… no more actions. There's nothing more he can do to prove himself after a year of dedication and loyalty and love.

"Fine." He whispers, defeated. What's the point anyway? Why should he even _care_ what Brendan thinks of him anymore? It's not like they're together… not like they're _ever_ going to be together… not like Stephen even has to be a part of his life. So it shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. It won't matter… Stephen will force himself to not care, just as he's forced himself to do before.

Stephen turns the key back in the door… feeling a failure. He pulls the door open, about to step out of the hot claustrophobia of the office before…

"Why is it always _me _comin' to _you?"_ He croaks miserably, once again feeling the familiar pang of shame and humiliation at having broken so easily. "Why is it always _me _apologising?"

… nothing.

Brendan once again has his back to Stephen, his body hunched over the desk and his shoulders rising and falling in stress. The monster inside of him growing; gnawing at his insides, possessing him with it's pain. Stephen needs to get out of here.

So without another word, he does.

And he's not coming back.

XOXOXOX

It's 11:30. Ste's exhausted; tired from a hard day at work and once again finding himself drained emotionally from his confrontation with Brendan. It's an all-too familiar feeling that he's tried countless times to get over; the feeling of longing, desire, the ache of caring too much, the defeat, the disgrace, the shame and then the exhaustion.

Amy and the kids have already gone to bed, and Ste would too if it wasn't for the fact he can hardly sleep. He curls onto the sofa watching some shit TV and trying to distract himself from the events of today whirling endlessly round his head. On days like this he just wishes he was someone else. Someone less pathetic, less needy, less likely to put their neck on the line and have it brutally cut off.

By 1:30am, he's drifted off into a light sleep… the kind where he's dreaming, and yet can still hear the television and is very aware of being in a slumber. The one where he can feel the edge of the sofa looming closer and closer and then startles himself awake as he nearly falls off it.

He sits up irritably. Fuck sake.

But then he hears something… a light knocking at the door… SO quiet you could only assume the person on the other side almost doesn't _want _him to hear. He frowns.

"Wh…who is it?" he calls through.

No sound from the other side.

Ste sighs, pulling off the chain and opening at the door, about ready to shout at whoever so inconsiderately chose THIS hour to visit.

But he stops dead.

And he's hardly surprised really… it's like he knew deep down that it would be him all along.

Brendan looks awkward. Extremely uncomfortable, and a little bit drunk. He's still wearing the suit from earlier although it's more ruffled than he would ever usually allow himself to be presented as. But it's clear from the look in his eyes he's got a score to settle. He's dead-set on something. This isn't an embarrassed booty call or a drunken stumble… there is something Brendan _definitely _wants to say.

Ste sighs. "What?"

Brendan clears his throat. He seems weirdly nervous but… no, that couldn't be right.

"Hi." He says eventually.

Ste frowns. Is he for real? Only a few hours ago he had Stephen against the wall and was pretty much declaring that he get the hell out of his life for good.

"Seriously," Ste groans, "What d'you wa…"

"My name's Brendan." The Irishman states firmly. "Brendan Brady… I jus' moved here from Ireland."

Ste blinks. Now he's really perplexed. This game is neither funny nor making sense… in fact, it's just worrying. "Brendan wha…"

"'Stephen', isn't it?"

And something in Brendan's eye catches Ste's attention. A kind of manic desperation, deeply hidden under a mask of playfulness and cheek. And vaguely, Ste starts to work out what might be going on…

"Ste, actually." He answers slowly.

"Ste… huh. Interesting." He flinches and then changes his mind; "Yeah, I'm gonna call you Stephen."

"Right…"

"Yeah, so," Brendan coughs, obviously finding this whole drama incredibly embarrassing and yet something in him _needing _to do it. "So er… I saw you walkin' around and er – nice walk by the way – and I don't usually do this but errr… right, um…"

Brendan physically psyches himself, shaking out his hands as he inhales a deep breath… putting himself on the line… exposing himself to a lad who could so easily – and has every right to – shoot him down.

"What Brendan?"

"Do you… do ye wanna go… get a drink some time? Maybe? With me? Brendan Brady, your new Irish neighbour…"

Ste's lips crease against his will into a tiny smile at that. One of amusement, of astonishment and… despite everything… an old lingering feeling of adoration. This man was a bit of a mess. A huge fuck-up. Very crazy. And Ste knows that usually Brendan would rather die than pull this kind of corny stunt. But he is here now… doing it. And it has to be for a reason.

Ste raises his eyebrows and plays along. "I didn't even know you were gay, Brendan."

Brendan visibly swallows, "Really?"

Ste shakes his head slowly. "Bit of a closet case are you?"

"Was. Once. Not anymore."

Ste's heart skips a beat. In fact, he feels a little sick… feelings resurfacing that he SWORE would never resurface. It's happening again… his heart fighting against his head… the affect of Brendan messing with his mind. This is not good. He's not in a coherent state now, with Brendan making this gesture. Ste falls so easily into his hands and he's learned too many times… he can't make any big decisions in this position.

"Okay Brendan, can we stop this now? It's a bit wanky." He mutters light-heartedly, eyes travelling to the floor as his cheeks flash a little red.

"Just a drink, Stephen. That's all I'm askin' for. Jus'… jus'… I think we should start again."

"A date then?"

"A drink. For you to make a decision about me."

Ste nods slowly, understanding. "And you about me."

But Brendan shakes his head. And his eyes are heavy and intense and piercing into Ste's soul with a rare honesty.

"I'm already decided about you." He breathes darkly. "I want to make this work."

Ste swallows, crippled under the power of that statement.

"I've not been on a first-date since I was like… thirteen." He breathes, smiling.

"That's cos dates ARE for thirteen year olds, this is a DRINK." Brendan corrects.

"So where will we go on this drink-date?" Ste smirks.

Brendan rolls his eyes, but Ste can detect the smile underneath. It's that fond one he has whenever Ste talks too much or sticks his foot in it or says something a bit stupid.

"Wherever ye want." Brendan replies. "I'll pick you up tomorrow."

"And no… no weird surprises right? It's… it's just a date?"

"Actually, I have a line of pimps who are interested in ye, just thought I'd introduce you to 'em."

"Brendan."

Brendan snorts. "Course it's just a… date."

He flinches slightly at the word, but Ste's eyes visibly lighten, and that makes it worth it.

"Look good, yeah?" Brendan calls back over his shoulder as he starts heading away from the flat, "First impressions an' all that."

"Yeah." Ste breathes. "First impressions."

He closes the door. And – weird as it sounds – his stomach is jittering with the nervous butterflies he DID have back when he was 13, and on his first date. The nerves of making an impression and harbouring a crush…

And the feeling that perhaps there's a lot more to follow.


End file.
